


friendly favors

by heungminie (kumajoonie)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Harry is repressed and a little mean, Harry's just... like that, Inappropriate Humor, Let him figure it out, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Relationship, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, Slightly toxic behavior from Harry, Sonny is pining, or Friends With Benefits, truly excessive use of the word 'fuck'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumajoonie/pseuds/heungminie
Summary: Harry chuckles dryly. “Right. Unless you’re offering to suck me off, I’m good,” he retorts. Harry means this as a joke.Sonny chews at his bottom lip, thinking to himself for two painful minutes while Harry curses him out in his head. “Okay,” he agrees quietly.
Relationships: Harry Kane/Son Heung-Min
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	friendly favors

**Author's Note:**

> harry is kind of... an awkward asshole here. not reflective of my Actual Perception of him as a human. anyway, this is porn.

Harry’s enraged. Not because he woke up on the wrong side of bed, and not because he got stuck in traffic, but because Sonny’s talking his goddamn ear off. 

To elaborate: Harry had been hard the entire drive to training for God knows what reason, then aggressively stuffed his erection into the band of his pants because he has too much self-respect to jack off in the carpark, and now that he’s actually at the grounds, he can’t even deal with it properly because  _ Sonny _ won’t leave him alone.

Don’t get him wrong. He likes Sonny -  a lot. He’s a nice kid, but Jesus Christ, he’s not making it easy for Harry to extract himself from this conversation and go jerk off.

“What do you think though, H? I am definitely too busy for a dog,” Sonny's rambling.

When the fuck did they start talking about dogs? Harry clenches his fist and stares at the ceiling. He can’t just shove Sonny aside, right? That’d be rude.

“And no one would be able to take care of it at home. But I get lonely sometimes, so I think about it a lot. Do you think it’s stupid?”

Harry sighs, then drops his focus back to Sonny. He can't do this anymore.  _ Fuck it, he’ll understand, _ Harry thinks.  _ I’ll buy Sonny the stupid dog if it offends him, he’ll get over it.  _ He brushes past Sonny, cutting him off mid-conversation, and heads straight for the toilets.

Clearly, he overestimates Sonny’s ability for understanding because he trails after Harry in alarm. “Wait, H!” He calls out, quickly gaining on his heels.

Harry storms through the doors, hoping that  _ maybe _ Sonny will cut it out there, then winces when he hears it swing open again and clatter closed behind Sonny.

He spins around to face him, leaning back against the sinks and glaring with exasperation. Can he please just get this over with. “What do you want?”

Sonny’s gaze dips from Harry’s face toward his hands gripping the counter’s edge. His knuckles are going pale. “You’re angry?” Sonny guesses, politely looking away from the strain of the muscles in Harry’s neck. “What happened?”

Harry resists the urge to scoff in annoyance. Sonny doesn’t know any better, he really has no right to be so venomous. “Nothing  _ happened _ ,” he insists. “Just get on with whatever you came in here to do.”

“I am.” Sonny shrugs. “I just came in to check on you, see if you’re okay. You seem bothered.”

Harry sighs and drops his head, glaring down at his lap. He’s still hard, cock uncomfortably forced up into the band of his pants. _ Fucking hell, Harry. Even now? _ He attempts to wave Sonny away, seeing as this isn’t something he should really be around for. “I’m fine, Sonny. Go on.”

Of course, the ever-loyal Son Heungmin never knows when to fucking quit. The perfect picture of consideration and hospitality, Sonny pushes it. “You really don’t look okay, H. Can I help?”

“No, Sonny. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? I’ll do anything, I don’t mind.”

_ Yeah, sure _ . “Sonny, stop. I’m really alright, you can go.”

Sonny pouts, face falling like Harry’s betrayed him by not divulging his intimate secrets. “But H, I just want to-”

Harry grimaces, having had enough with the aimless back and forth, and harshly jerks his waistband down so that his dick snaps up against his stomach. “I’m _hard_ , Sonny. Jesus Christ. Now get the fuck out.”

Sonny gasps, a swift little wisp of air that he sucks into his mouth and chokes on. 

Harry rolls his eyes, situating himself back into his pants and only half-thinking,  _ why the fuck did you need to do that, Harry? _ “Calm down. It’s a dick, Sonny.”

“Yes, I know that,” Sonny argues back. He swallows and takes a moment, staring for a little longer than ideal. He tilts his head to the side, eyes flitting between Harry’s now modest lap and his deadpan expression.

Harry thinks Sonny really shouldn’t be this shocked, it’s not like he’s some fairytale virginal maiden on her wedding night. Sonny probably saw his dick as recently as yesterday in the change rooms. Harry’s about to remind him of this, but Sonny interrupts first.

“Can I help?” He offers, wide eyes pleading with Harry.

Harry chuckles dryly. “Right. Unless you’re offering to suck me off, I’m good,” he retorts. Harry means this as a joke.

Sonny chews at his bottom lip, thinking to himself for two painful minutes while Harry curses him out in his head. “Okay,” he agrees quietly.

Harry coughs, swinging his elbow up to cover his mouth. “ _ Okay _ ?” He raises an eyebrow, completely thrown by that. “Are you serious?”

Sonny smiles, bright and innocent, which only makes Harry’s problem  _ worse _ \- which, holy shit, he doesn’t want to unpack that at all right now. “Sure,” Sonny decides more firmly. “Why not?”

He says it like it’s whatever, like sucking dick is nothing more than a favor and not something that would drastically change a friendship.

Harry rakes his hand over his face, huffing into his palm and pouring all of his energy into not saying anything.  _ “Why not?”  _ isn’t a great answer, especially when it comes to negotiating a blowjob with a teammate - _especially_ with one who Harry’s not even 100% certain has ever had sex, to begin with. They’ve never talked about it before. What a fucking time to start. 

Hypothetically, it’s a horrible idea. 

In reality, every passing second that Harry doesn’t kick Sonny out of the bathroom is another point for the “why  _ the fuck  _ not?” camp. Harry would be lying if he said he’s never thought about it. It’s possible that Sonny’s tendency for excited chatter has conjured up many fantasies of him shutting up with Harry’s cock in his mouth.

Real-life Sonny, the Sonny standing straight as a pencil before him, opens his mouth yet  _ again _ to say something, and Harry thinks,  _ sure _ .

“Fuck it. Fine. Come here then,” Harry gruffs out, his right hand already hovering over his waistband.

Sonny obeys, rolling up on his heels and approaching eagerly. He’s close now, close enough for Harry to watch the way his pupils dilate. Harry fails to keep that from going straight to his cock. He reaches out for Sonny’s shoulder and shoves him down  _ hard _ , sending Sonny toppling onto his knees before him.

Sonny teeters before finding his balance, flexing his feet back in his shoes so that he can stay centered. He tips his chin up, lips pressed into a pleasant little smile, and blinks his curious eyes slowly up at Harry. He’s so  _ willing _ . This should be a given, considering he just explicitly offered to give sucking dick a go, but seeing it like this is different. Sonny’s just aching to be used, and the image hits Harry with the full force of a steam engine.

He flips his waistband down much too quickly, desperate to release the tension on his dick and maybe to see Sonny’s reaction once again.

Sonny takes a sharp breath, and his eyes widen like he’s remembered all of a sudden what they’re here for. He says nothing, except for a feather-light murmur of “ _ Big _ ,” and Harry decides he wants to destroy him.

Harry squeezes the base of his dick in his fist, looking away from Sonny for a moment to settle the chaos in his brain. When he looks back, Sonny is just as awestruck, gawking like he’s both scared of and starving for it. Harry groans and moves his free hand to the back of Sonny’s head.

“You don’t have to,” He mutters reassuringly, tightening his hold in Sonny’s hair and pushing his head forward.

“Promised,” is all Sonny replies back, licking his lips with interest but making no moves to fulfill the said promise otherwise. 

“Put your mouth on it,” Harry guides, one hand gripping himself tight and the other continuing to force Sonny closer. His arms are so tense, it feels like he’s conducting a symphony orchestra with two burdened hands. Sonny remains perched on his knees, looking pretty and proper with his hands folded in his lap but becoming a nightmare in his own right with how little effort he’s putting into his half of the equation.

“Sonny,” Harry coaxes. “Come on.” Sonny lets Harry take him wherever he wants, leaning into his pull. Harry huffs in relief when he finally gets Sonny close enough to brush the head of his dick against his bottom lip. “There you go,” he encourages, rubbing it against Sonny’s lips until precum is glossing them over. 

Sonny hums before parting them and looking up to Harry for his next instruction. 

“Open. _Wider_ ,” Harry commands, and Sonny follows obediently. He takes half of Harry’s cock into his mouth in one easy glide, careful to cover his teeth with his lips. Either sweet, innocent Sonny watches a  _ lot _ of porn, or -

“Fuck, have you done this before?” Harry grates out. He tightens his hand around Sonny’s neck and pushes him deeper until he can feel the resistance of Sonny’s tongue pressing up against him. “You can suck,” Harry tells him. God knows why; Sonny’s clearly got it sorted down there.

Sonny nods around him, glancing up at Harry while he relaxes his jaw and slicks up his cock. He pulls off for a moment to kiss the side of it, then drags it across his cheek as he pulls away. A string of precum mixed with saliva hangs between Harry’s cock and Sonny’s chin, and Harry thinks he might accidentally choke Sonny if he keeps that up. 

Sonny shuffles closer on his knees, then takes Harry into his throat again, reaching a hand up to grip Harry’s thigh as he forces his head deeper along his dick. He’s whimpering a little, making quiet, forgettable noises that will haunt Harry’s dreams for the rest of the year, at least.

Harry rolls his hips as a light test, to which Sonny responds by scrabbling his hand from Harry’s thigh to the corner of his shirt. When Sonny seems to take it in stride, Harry slowly fucks into his throat. Sonny’s eyes roll back at the deep thrust, and Harry chuckles, smoothing his hand across Sonny’s forehead. “You’re good at this,” he compliments while quickening his pace. That earns him a needy whine and Sonny’s complete cooperation. His jaw falls slack as he lets Harry rail his throat, fingers anchored tight into Harry’s clothes. 

Harry pushes Sonny back and forth on his cock, until drool is dripping down his chin and wetting his thighs. Harry grunts, fucking into Sonny’s mouth with a long, deep thrust, then yanks him off without warning. Sonny’s head bobbles as he’s ripped off it, and he stares up at Harry in a confused daze. He watches on with big, baffled eyes as Harry closes his hand around his dick and furiously jerks himself off, fingers sliding tight around the wetness left by Sonny’s mouth. Harry barely breathes out, “Close your eyes,” in time for Sonny to obey.

Sonny shuts them tight, lips parting to affirm, “Okay.”

That’s when Harry comes, violent and fast, over Sonny’s face and into his mouth, hanging wide open. It’s  _ everywhere _ , painting Sonny’s cheeks and nose, in his eyelashes, and sprayed over his tongue.

Harry groans at the sight of it, milking what’s left in his dick onto his knuckles. “Fuck,” Harry murmurs like a broken record. 

Sonny brings his hands up to his face, wipes his eyelids with the backs of them, then cautiously opens his eyes. He blinks, once, then twice, to process. Then he closes his mouth and swallows without fucking flinching. 

Harry has half a mind to respond, but post-orgasm, he really just has half a fucking mind. He can barely move, let alone comprehend the reality of Sonny swallowing his cum down like it’s water. He stays put when Sonny leans forward, kitten licking the cum dripping at the tip of his cock, then sucking his knuckles clean of it. Sonny politely explains, “It was dirty,” before getting back up onto his feet.

He smiles, and Harry isn’t sure how to respond. Can you give thank you gifts for this kind of thing?  Maybe Harry _will_ buy him that dog.

He clears his throat, tucking himself back into his pants, and settles for reaching over to pat Sonny’s head. “Um. Thanks, Sonny.”

Sonny doesn’t acknowledge the awkwardness. He’s much more focused on the mirror behind Harry, fixated on the territorial markings covering his face. 

Harry eases out of the spot between them, not willing to break the link of fatal attraction pulling real-Sonny and mirror-Sonny together. He’s actually more than grateful to break away scot-free, stepping toward the door without any of the repercussions he definitely should be facing for pulling a stunt like that. When Harry looks back over his shoulder at Sonny, he sees him smiling at the mirror, tilting his face side to side to see every part of his skin coated in Harry’s cum and seemingly  _ admiring  _ it.

Well, Harry’s not going to fucking ask.

It’s only when Sonny leans down to start washing the cum off his face that Harry notices the bulge in his shorts. It looks pitiful, straining and wet against the fabric. Poor Sonny.  Too bad Harry can’t help with that.

If he isn’t keen on beating himself off at the grounds, he’s certainly not going to offer to suck off his teammate. He shrugs a little, satisfied with his reasoning, and glides out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

He’s only a bit worried when something like 10 minutes passes and Sonny’s still nowhere to be seen. Harry has to wonder if maybe he was a little bit  _ too much  _ of a bastard, coming on Sonny’s face and then abandoning him in the bathroom like that. Considering how he left, maybe it did read a little " _ I go first, then you 15 minutes later."  _ He sighs, doubling back toward the toilets with just the slightest ounce of remorse and little to nothing of a plan.

Harry has no clue what he should expect to find when he returns. Sonny sobbing to himself in a stall because Harry was a dickhead? God, hopefully not. Maybe Sonny slumped over the sink, sucked into the swirling void of Instagram, or staring into the mirror and regretting his brilliant choice to blow one of his team captains. That’d be depressing, Harry thinks. Sure, he  _ himself _ isn’t offering to get down onto his knees for a mate anytime soon, but Sonny’s clearly got a talent for it. It’d be a right shame for him to retire his cock-sucking career so early. If Harry’s stance there is for selfish purposes, so be it.

After spending far too long ruminating over the various possible scenarios, Harry hadn’t considered the one truthfully _obvious in retrospect_ option. He slips into the bathroom to see it empty, with Sonny tucked into one of the stalls. For a second, Harry almost thinks it’s prediction No. 1. 

Is that Sonny  _ crying _ in there? It almost sounds like it - like Sonny’s weeping to himself, which makes something unpleasant squirm in Harry’s chest. His temporary worries are quelled when he eases closer, listening in on the light, airy moans floating over the walls. He can hear the slick sounds of skin sliding against skin - crystal clear audio evidence of Sonny working at himself.  _ Oh _ , Harry realizes. 

He shifts uncomfortably outside the cubicle, knowing that despite every ethically dubious choice he’s made today, leaving Sonny high and dry and later indulging in the unintentional display of pleasure he’s putting on is a bit over the line. Harry doesn’t want to overstep, but then again, when will he ever get another chance like this? Sonny’s seen _him_ get off. Maybe it’s only fair of Harry to stay and listen.

Focusing on Sonny’s voice almost makes Harry regret stuffing his mouth earlier. He sounds much too pretty when he’s liberal with his noises, strangled high-pitched whines reminding Harry of the bratty complaints Sonny enjoys throwing around. He has a way of curling around you, of begging as a form of demand, inevitably guaranteeing that  _ whatever Sonny wants, Sonny gets _ .

“I wanna get fucked,” tumbles pathetically from his lips through the stall door. 

Harry has to stifle a chuckle, not quite as surprised as he should be to overhear the admission. He’s thought to himself, “Sonny looks like he’d enjoy getting bent over,” maybe once a month for the past four years. He smiles, then leans his head against the divider to hear Sonny better. 

Sonny hiccups and repeats himself, so careful to remain unheard, and still so desperate to say it, “ _ I want you to fuck me _ .” That’s different, just a little more specific. Harry’s stomach tightens. A darkness inside him wants to hear his own name tacked to the end of it. 

Sonny’s pace is quickening, messy and desperate, paired with frustrated little moans that are just asking for Harry to coo at him.

Harry’s skull rattles when Sonny smacks the other side of the divider, probably smashing his forehead or a stressed fist against it. He startles away at the vibration, only snapping out of it in time to hear Sonny whimper out with a shaky breath of relief. 

“Oh no,” Sonny whispers on the other side. Harry assumes this means he’s finished. He lets Sonny sort himself out first, keying into the rustling of him dressing up again, and then the petulant whine that seems to indicate he’s not been as clean as he hoped to.

When a moment of silence settles in, Harry asks, “Like _me_ to do that to you, Sonny?” just to be cheeky - just to relish in the way Sonny yelps and stutters out, “H? H, is that you?” in panicked confusion.

It’s much too early to continue being this cruel, so Harry just laughs and declares, “Maybe I will one day, if you ask nicely,” before knocking twice against the stall door to tell Sonny it’s safe to come out.

When he gingerly swings the door open, poking his head out first to scan his surroundings, Sonny finds the bathroom starkly empty. He pouts down at his stickied hand, hurrying over to the sinks to wash it clean. He can’t stop thinking about it as he’s soaping up his fingers, staring blankly into the mirror and remembering how pretty his face had looked with _Harry_ dripping down it. He rinses his hands and splashes cold water over his cheeks, as if that will alleviate the burning that accompanied every one of Harry’s touches.

Harry leaves him dizzy and  _ wanting _ , lusting after someone who can weigh down his tongue at one moment and disappear just as easily in the next.

It’s a damn good thing that Sonny likes the pain.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make me cry with joy 
> 
> send me anon hate @ heungminie.tumblr.com
> 
> also if u want... thoughtful... plot-developed... queer-centric... character-driven kaneson, read my last fic "you are that warmth inside my chest" <3


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